"Alexandre Dumas. Twenty Years After." - читать интересную книгу автора

saddle-bow.
"Certainly not! certainly not," exclaimed Mazarin. "Diavolo! my dear
friend, you are going to spoil everything-everything is going on famously.
I know the French as well as if I had made them myself. They sing-let them
pay the piper. During the Ligue, about which Guitant was speaking just now,
the people chanted nothing except the mass, so everything went to
destruction. Come, Guitant, come along, and let's see if they keep watch at
the Quinze-Vingts as at the Barriere des Sergens."
And waving his hand to Comminges he rejoined D'Artagnan, who instantly
put himself at the head of his troop, followed by the cardinal, Guitant and
the rest of the escort.
"Just so," muttered Comminges, looking after Mazarin. "True, I forgot;
provided he can get money out of the people, that is all he wants."
The street of Saint Honore, when the cardinal and his party passed
through it, was crowded by an assemblage who, standing in groups, discussed
the edicts of that memorable day. They pitied the young king, who was
unconsciously ruining his country, and threw all the odium of his
proceedings on Mazarin. Addresses to the Duke of Orleans and to Conde were
suggested. Blancmesnil and Broussel seemed in the highest favor.
D'Artagnan passed through the very midst of this discontented mob just
as if his horse and he had been made of iron. Mazarin and Guitant conversed
together in whispers. The musketeers, who had already discovered who
Mazarin was, followed in profound silence. In the street of Saint
Thomas-du-Louvre they stopped at the barrier distinguished by the name of
Quinze-Vingts. Here Guitant spoke to one of the subalterns, asking how
matters were progressing.
"Ah, captain!" said the officer, "everything is quiet hereabout-if I
did not know that something is going on in yonder house!"
And he pointed to a magnificent hotel situated on the very spot
whereon the Vaudeville now stands.
"In that hotel? it is the Hotel Rambouillet," cried Guitant.
"I really don't know what hotel it is; all I do know is that I
observed some suspicious looking people go in there-"
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Guitant, with a burst of laughter; "those men
must be poets."
"Come, Guitant, speak, if you please, respectfully of these gentlemen,
" said Mazarin; "don't you know that I was in my youth a poet? I wrote
verses in the style of Benserade-"
"You, my lord?"
"Yes, I; shall I repeat to you some of my verses?"
"Just as you please, my lord. I do not understand Italian."
"Yes, but you understand French," and Mazarin laid his hand upon
Guitant's shoulder. "My good, my brave Guitant, whatsoever command I may
give you in that language-in French-whatever I may order you to do, will
you not perform it?"
"Certainly. I have already answered that question in the affirmative;
but that command must come from the queen herself."
"Yes! ah yes!" Mazarin bit his lips as he spoke; "I know your devotion
to her majesty."
"I have been a captain in the queen's guards for twenty years," was